


2:49 AM

by smartalli



Series: i don't have a choice, but i still choose you [3]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartalli/pseuds/smartalli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s 2:49 AM and Mike is still 542 pages away from finding the smoking gun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2:49 AM

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own it. Not mine. Don't sue.

Mike flips the page and, when the words start to blur together halfway down, rubs at his eyes with his left hand. He leans back on the sofa in Harvey's office, feels the crack of his spine, and twists his wrist to look at his watch.

2:49 AM. 

Mike ran out of Red Bull about two hours ago, and the break room coffee hasn't helped much, just barely doing its part in keeping him awake. He wants to just drop his head on the coffee table in front of him and take a nice, long nap, but there are five hundred and forty-two pages left in the Morrison bylaws, and he still hasn't found the smoking gun for Louis.

He slowly tilts his head left...right...wincing when he feels the pop. He stands, bounces on his feet a few times, begins to pace around Harvey's office with the next few pages in his hand, drags his sock-clad feet across the low-pile carpet.

He's conquered fifty-nine pages when there's a knock on Harvey's open door, surprising him enough that he drops the papers in his hand. He looks up. It's one of the security guards from downstairs - Ricky, Mike thinks - and he's holding a bag in his hand.

"Mr. Ross?"

"Mike."

He drops to his knees to pick up the papers, shuffling them together quickly, haphazardly.

"Mike. Can I..."

Mike stands, waves him in. "Come in."

Ricky holds out the bag in his hand. "This was dropped off for you downstairs a few minutes ago. Was told to bring it up to you right away."

"Thanks." He furrows his eyebrows, takes the bag. "Who dropped it off?"

"Delivery guy."

"Did he say who sent it?"

Ricky shakes his head. "Just said to make sure you got it right away. Have a good night."

Mike nods to his retreating back, calls out, "You too."

Ricky waves over his shoulder and starts whistling some upbeat tune Mike doesn't recognize, disappears quickly down the hallway.

Mike supports the white paper bag on the bottom with one hand, uncurls the top with the other, and laughs when he pulls out a four pack of Red Bull, note attached to the top with a piece of Scotch tape.

**_HURRY UP. THE BED'S GETTING COLD. -H_ **

{fin}


End file.
